Communicationally Challenged
by TeamAlphaQ
Summary: Fourth Grade for Tweek and Craig passed in a flash, and somehow they survived. But now they're going into Fifth Grade and South Park is as South Park does, and between struggling with the feelings they don't understand and fighting against what's being thrown at them, it'll be a miracle if both of them make it out of this alive. But at least they'll always have each other, right?


_Damien_

Hell, as one might imagine, was quite nice in the summer.

Damien, who'd lived his entire life in the place, enjoyed it as much as one could. Which is to say, he didn't enjoy it at all and for him that was completely normal, acceptable, and even prefered. The idea of enjoying something just hadn't occurred to him yet.

That being said, for a denizen of Hell, he had all the creature comforts. A lovely bedroom with natural, hellfire lighting, a lava pool, obsidian flooring, and of course, a wonderful gazebo that overlooked the seventh circle of hell. It didn't get much better than that. Damien could wake up every morning and head to the small class run by some of the older, more sedate demons, to learn about the inner workings of his home, and then fall asleep every night to the sounds of the screams of the damned. He never _liked_ it, but at the same time, it was all he'd ever known.

At ten years old, roughly, Damien had everything he could possibly ever need.

Unfortunately, perhaps, not everyone agreed with this sentiment.

There was an ungodly crash and a string of furious Arabic. "You can not keep him here like this, you are hurting him Satan, you are turning him into a hermit I won't allow it!" Saddam spat, crossing his arms and glaring at the king of Hell menacingly. Satan, for his part, was wringing his meaty red hands and shifting from hoof to hoof.

"But he's only _ten_ Saddam," Satan persisted, giving him a pleading look. "He's my only son, I can't just toss him into the outside world like that, it's so horrible out there."

Oh yeah, if you weren't already aware, Damein was the son of the Devil. From his short black hair to his fire-filled eyes to the flames he could make flicker on the tips of his fingers, he was every part a young Satan. For his entire life he'd been groomed to eventually rule beside his father, presiding over the levels of hell. Every order he followed and every rule that he learned was preparing him for his future.

It wasn't that Damien _wanted_ to help govern the lake of fire and it's surrounding principalities, but when you were born into it there really wasn't much you could do. And he didn't exactly have anything else to go off of to judge whether this career was what he wanted. He was his father's son, and that meant that Hell was his kingdom. In his life, there hadn't been opportunities to go to many career days where he could consider something a little less fire and brimstone like baking or possibly accounting.

That being said, for all his training, Satan doted on his son, trying to give him the best life possible. While he'd never had any trouble, Damien at least partially knew that was because his father carefully kept a carpet under his feet and at least two lesser demons nearby at all times to tend to his every need. What Saddam was talking about, leaving hell, that was definitely something entirely new. And thus, like the gentle, mild-mannered fallen angel that he was, Satan wasn't too keen on the idea. If you looked at him, you could see a genuine concern in the devil's eyes, but Saddam, as always, ignored it entirely.

"Don't give me that Satan, he should have been tossed out there years ago! You are cloistering him and you know how that's going to end? Badly. Horribly in fact! That is a world that he needs to understand. Just because his useless _father_ can't make heads or tails of it doesn't mean that he should be the same." The former Iraqui leader crossed his arms and cocked his hips to the side. "This will not continue."

"You wouldn't throw Damien out, Saddam, he's not _ready,"_ Satan protested, through his words were weak.

"Of course he's ready you fool!"

From outside the door, Damien stood silently, watching his father and his father's partner argue. This wasn't the first time he'd seen them fight and he doubted it would be the last. It was always the same issue: Damien's eventual introduction to the Mortal realms. Until Saddam brought it up, it hadn't even been a thought in the young devil's mind. What would he even do up there? There weren't any souls to torture, there wasn't any paperwork that he was supposed to study or any casualty counts that he needed to memorize. Up there, what would he even _do_ with his time?

"Please, Saddam, don't do this to me," Satan said, clasping his hands in front of him before being forced to dodge a flying skull bowl that his lover had thrown at him. "I can't send him. Remember what happened to his mother, I can't-"

"His mother doesn't count," Saddam scoffed. "Don't tell me you still think about that bitch, she is nothing." Spitting on the ground to prove his point, the man snapped, "I will not let you stifle him Satan, he's going to be better than you."

"But I-" Stepping back away from the open door, Damien rustled his black robes and strode away, his frown as deep as ever. To be perfectly honest, any opinion he might have had on the subject was severely hampered by the fact that he'd never been asked to make a decision on _anything_ before. It wasn't in his nature to want anything but the express will of his father, which according to all the history books was world domination, and plunging everything into eternal chaos. Admittedly, his history professor, a Demon by the name of Azazel, had always had a flair for the dramatic.

If he were going to have thoughts on the subject however, he would probably say that staying down here sounded fine. He had everything, he was as comfortable as one could be in hell, and at least here he didn't have to deal with humans. Oh sure the souls he saw every day could be considered humans, but some of them were pretty irritating, and most of them were dull. Why then would they force him to go to the overworld?

Walking down one long, stone hallway, Damien ran his fingers over the cross hanging around his neck as he pondered his predicament. Eventually, Saddam would win, Satan had trouble saying no to the man, but until then, Damien's relative position was up in the air. As he headed towards the front doors of hell, where a long line of damned souls that hadn't yet been admitted stood waiting, Damien decided to let the matter go entirely. When he was told to go, he would. Until then, he would continue on as if nothing was changing.

As he passed by the front desk, where a harried Succubus by the name of Nancy frantically attempted to search for something on her computer, Damien called in his typically dark voice, "Greetings."

Looking up, Nancy let out a sound before exclaiming, "Lord Damien! How are you today?"

"Damned," Damien answered, his expression unchaninging. Wandering around towards the staff entrance, Damien reached up and opened the door before walking into the crowded office. Pulling up a stool, the boy climbed up and watched as Nancy continued trying to file through the ever expanding list of new arrivals. This was one of the few places he actually had any sort of positive emotion towards. Watching the ever marching procession of fresh souls was calming and monotonous, and Nancy was pretty alright.

Watching as the Succubus struggled to make Vista respond to her, the young demon asked, "Trouble?"

Growling, even though it came out sounding more like a sexual groan, the harried receptionist muttered, "There was a _huge_ influx of souls all from one place and I can't keep up with it. It's been months and I'm still dealing with the fall out. They're always dumping huge numbers of people here, and it's so- so rude!"

"Where is it?" Damien asked out of habit. Usually, he was required to keep up with where the greatest influxes of souls came from so that he could help keep the books straight, but he couldn't think of any huge wars currently going on. Frown deepening, the boy reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out the seeing stone one of the three Fates had given him for his ninth birthday.

"South Park Colorado of all places," Nancy muttered, her mouse clicking furiously before she gave another grunt of frustration. "You wouldn't think that one little dinky town out in the middle of nowhere would be able to generate that many problems, but it would surprise you, honestly."

Staring into the flat, swirling opal, Damien glared at it, willing it to show him South Park. As usual, the first thing the stone did was show him that same, animated, smiling face that appeared every time he looked into its polished surface, but after a few seconds of glaring at the unknown boy's cheery grin, the thing cleared. A moment later, he was witnessing zombies shambling around, and a rather unremarkable town being set on fire. "Ah," he said at last, mildly puzzled.

"Oh yes, just _brush off_ the single biggest problem I have to deal with on a daily basis, thank you Lord Damien." That was one of the reasons the boy liked the succubus. Even though it was always 'Lord Damien' this and 'Lord Damien' that, Nancy spoke to him plainly. It was a luxury he wasn't accustomed to. "I'll have you know, that last week, these four kids- Oh no, not you again."

"What, didn't you miss me?" At that mischievous voice that came from somewhere beneath the desk, Damien's furrowed brows deepened in confusion. Slipping his stone back into his pocket, the devil's son stared at Nancy's exasperated expression before leaning forward so he could see who she was talking to.

"This is the second time this week, what on _earth_ are you doing?" Nancy griped, already pulling out actual paper documents in irritation.

"Hey, it's not my fault the train went off the tracks." The boy that Damien was looking down at was tall for his apparent age, with sandy blond hair, freckles and eyes as blue as the sky. His easy, if crooked grin, was turned towards Nancy, who was furiously scribbling away at the pages she'd shifted her keyboard to fill out. "Sometimes, these things just _happen."_

"Oh shut up they _always_ happen around you that isn't a coincidence!" As Nancy complained, the young boy's eyes shifted towards Damien and his mouth spread into a pleased smirk. Taken aback by the reaction to his presence, the demon ruffled his proverbial feather and tipped his chin upwards. While he stared down at the sandy-blond, a piece of what Nancy had said registered and Damien's mind started turning. _Again… What does she mean_ again, _you only ever see someone once up here._

Expression shifting into something a little milder, the boy drawled, "Well, I'd ask if this was your kid Nancy, but I gotta admit the family resemblance just isn't there." Ignoring Damien's affronted look, the sandy-blond asked, "So what, is it bring a demon to work day? Why does no one tell me these things?"

"Oh, no," Nancy exclaimed at once, waving her hands rapidly. "I can't believe you'd just ask something like that. Damien isn't just any demon, he's _Lord_ Damien, the son of Satan himself. So you had better treat him with respect otherwise it'll be my head on a plate."

If Damien had expected the boy to grovel or bow at the name drop, he was sorely disappointed. Whistling, the sandy-blond tipped his head back and muttered, "Wow, son of Big Red himself. I didn't know he had time to go prancing around making babies but hey, I don't judge." Grinning, the boy added, "Though I gotta ask, what's up with ol' Luci not bringing me into the loop on this? You'd think he'd mention that he's got a son."

"He probably doesn't want _you_ to be a bad influence on Lord Damien," Nancy quipped, moving her mouth silently as she filled out paperwork.

"A bad influence, on Satan's kid?" the blond gasped, pressing a hand to his heart. "I'm hurt."

"Oh shut up."

Face melting once more into a smirk, the boy shook his head and laughed. "Well, I guess you got me there. It's never too early to lose your mental v-card, I'd say." Winking at Damien, the sandy-blond purred, "Don't worry, I'll be gentle~"

Fed up with this conversation and quickly losing patience in general, Damien sharply demanded, "Who are you?"

Before Nancy could answer for him, the boy took a step back and bowed theatrically. "Kenny McCormick at your service, I am just _all the rage_ down here and, incidentally, up there despite being neither holy nor Mormon." The flash of Kenny's teeth was as bright as the flare of curiosity in his eyes. "It's just _wonderful_ to meet you."

"There paperwork done!" Nancy suddenly announced, slipping the documents into a slot in the wall. "You can leave now."

"Aww, so soon?" Kenny complained, pulling a mocking pout. "No can do Nance, you know how this works, I only leave when they let me go. Feel free to keep me around as long as you want though." There was something so foreign about the boy's good mood, Damien found himself studying him intently as if that might reveal some secret.

"Go?" Damien questioned in his usual blunt manner. "Go where?"

"Back up there and thankfully out of here," Nancy muttered. "Lord Damien, I can't handle him anymore. I have work to do. Would you mind getting your father to send him away or something?" Not about to let this curious phenomenon simply walk out when doing so would apparently send him back to earth, Damien hopped off his stool almost instantly.

"That will not be necessary, I'll watch over McCormick from here," Damien said decisively, before stepping out of the office and meeting the boy in front of the front desk. Kenny, unlike the rows of the dead stretched out behind him, wasn't wearing the sackcloth that was automatically issued them. Instead he was dressed in a bright orange parka and ripped jeans that made him look less like a dead kid and more like a mortal soul from above.

"Watch over me?" Kenny crooned, leaning back. He was slightly taller than Damien, which was oddly unsettling for the demon child. "Do you think I don't know my way around already?" There was no way that the sandy-blond was older than he was, but by the way he carried himself, Damien could see the worn soul within the boy. _This one is different,_ he realized, as a strange rush of very foreign thoughts and _questions_ flooded his mind. _This Kenny McCormick is special._

"No, but I wish to speak to you." Walking away towards one of the side doors of the room, Damien threw a glare over his shoulder when he noticed that Kenny still hadn't moved. "At once," he repeated, the fire in his eyes crackling. Instead of being fearful or perhaps listening, Kenny just leaned his head back and smirked.

"Man, you are _strange,"_ Kenny mused, blue eyes full of unknown calculations that Damien was having trouble reading. "Acting like you own the place- Well, I guess you do." Spreading his hands, the sandy-blond dipped his head and said, "I was actually hoping to catch up with your daddy dearest, but it seems I've been summoned elsewhere."

"Kenny McCormick, do not try my patience," Damien told the boy testily. He wasn't sure why, but the absolute fearlessness intrigued him, and he was more fascinated than upset. _Why do you act like you've been here before? Why do you talk about Heaven like you've visited. Who are you Kenny McCormick?_

Shrugging, the boy loped after Satan's son with the words, "Well, I don't have anything better to do so why not. You seem fun, Damien." No _Lord,_ just Damien.

"I am not fun," Damien assured the boy, which only earned him a chuckle.

"Oh but you're wrong," Kenny insisted, leaning down slightly so he could look up at Damien. "I am having just the time of my life right now." A laugh later, he straightened and said, "Lead the way, your Hellishness."

The moment they were outside of the main room, Damien asked, "Nancy said again, how have you been here before?"

Kenny whistled. "Blunt, aren't you?" Grinning from ear to ear, the boy sing-songed, "That's me, the boy who can never die, or at least, never stay dead." Winking, he ambled ahead of Damien, leaving the slightly shorter boy to catch up with him, huffing in annoyance as he did. As if this revelation meant nothing, Kenny commented, "I'm still surprised you and I haven't met before, you'd think that as the son of Satan, you'd get a little better publicity."

"I do not trouble myself with the affairs of the damned," Damien said stiffly. As if this was somehow amusing, Kenny let out another laugh. "What?" he demanded, his tone harsh.

"Nothing, just- So formal, do you ever lighten up?" Amiably, the boy insisted, "Back where I'm from, no one would know what to do with someone as tense as you."

"Where are you from," Damien asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. If there had been a track to begin with. Currently, he was finding himself entirely baffled by this person who was named Kenny. Not only was he an immortal, a creature that his father nor any of his teachers had elected to tell him even existed, but Kenny continued to speak and act in a way that was wholly foreign to him. Was it any wonder that the sandy-blond had him confused?

"Me?" Kenny asked incredulously, as if the thought of Damien wanting to know so basic was unbelievable. "I can't imagine why _you_ of all people would care~" When the demon's expression didn't change, the boy relented. "South Park Colorado. More of a hell than Hell will _ever_ be."

 _South Park._ The very same place that Nancy had complained about so vociferously. Interest piqued, Damien's frown deepened and he questioned, "Why do so many people die in South Park?"

"So you've heard of us, eh?" Kenny grinned and tilted his head back so he could hum. "We've got a lot of crazy in one place, it tends to make everything go a little haywire. Still, it's a decent place, you know, if you don't like traffic and don't mind almost dying every other week. Though-" He turned. "I couldn't even begin to guess where in the world _you_ would want to stay."

"I've never been to earth," Damien admitted, seeing no reason to hide something so fundamental and underwhelming from the curious child. On the other hand, Kenny seemed to find the information startling.

"Damien whatever-your-last-name-is, I do declare!" Kenny announced at a mockingly raised volume. "How can you go this long without ever being to earth? What are they teaching you down here dude, you need to live a little! Get out and see the world."

"I see no reason to," Damien argued, confused as to why Kenny would care about what he did or didn't do. But Kenny just wagged his finger.

"No no, you're looking at this all wrong Mr. Hellspawn, you're wasting your life!" Grinning from ear to ear, Kenny said, "Come on, think about it. If you never go to earth, you're never going to learn what _people_ look like."

"I have my ways," Damien said, attempting to stare down his nose at the taller boy. Kenny just kept shaking his head like that wasn't good enough.

"Damien, how old are you?"

"By the mortal calendar, I am ten years of a-"

"Yeah yeah, ten, got it," the sandy-blond acknowledged, cutting him off. "You're telling me that you're ten, and you've never met a living human in person?" When Damien didn't answer, Kenny started firing off more questions. "Ever talked to someone your own age? What about going to public school, ever done that? How about eating in a cafeteria?" Slapping his forehead as if the idea had just occurred to him, the blond exclaimed, "You've never even have ice cream, have you!? I mean, I haven't gotten to eat it much myself but that's just child cruelty right there."

"I have no desire to see or do any of these things," Damien informed Kenny flatly, pulling out his seeing stone. "I can observe the mortal world through this." Even as Kenny curiously leaned forward so he could see, Damien watched as the curly haired blond boy appeared once more, with his red coat and brown bow right under his chin. Softly, Kenny hummed.

"What if I told you that if you came up to the surface, you could meet that boy right there," Kenny suggested, his words oddly gentle.

"I wouldn't care one way or another," Damien found himself lying. He hadn't realized it was a lie until after he'd said it though, and by the time it had escaped, he couldn't quite figure out how to take it back. Because after seeing the same face for months now, he was curious, at least minutely, and the idea that he could meet him was honestly intriguing at least.

As if he could see straight through Damien's unintentional deception, Kenny smirked. "Look, don't feel pressured Damien, but if you get the chance to give Earth a try, I'd suggest taking a little jaunt down to South Park. Maybe stay a month or twelve. See if you like it. Even for someone like you, variety is important."

Closing his hand over the smiling face in the seeing stone, Damien said, "I shall… think on it."

"Wonderful." Glancing at the ceiling, as if hearing a voice that Damien couldn't' Kenny said, "Well, there's my cue. I'll see you around Hellboy, don't forget to visit~" Then he faded from existence, leaving Damien to stare at the spot where he'd once been in abject confusion. For the first time in his conscious life, the demon felt something stirring inside of him, a thought, a _desire._ It was quite strange, but he could articulate it without any trouble at all.

 _I want to go to Earth, and I want to go to South Park._

Sharply turning into one of the closest doors, Damien set a quick course for his father's quarters, his mind churning in a way that he'd never had it do before. Kenny had, without any trouble at all, made the son of Satan question all of those things that he'd taken for granted, like staying in hell all his life and never having opinions of his own. It was a mildly uncomfortable feeling, but it was powerful, and he couldn't shake it. He wanted to meet the person behind the face his stone kept showing him, and he was pretty sure that he wouldn't be adverse to seeing Kenny again either, if only to figure the boy out.

And that would take leaving hell.

For someone who had never felt excitement, Damien was definitely making good time in getting to Satan.

Throwing open the doors the moment he reached his father's chambers, Damien found Saddam and Satan sitting on opposite ends of the room, the former impassively irritated, the latter morose and hurt. Ignoring this, Damien called, "Father."

"Damien!" Satan exclaimed, a small smile flickering over his face. "What can I do for you my-"

"I wish to go to Earth." At the words, Saddam whipped around and mouthed the word _hah_ at Satan. Without breaking his concentration, Damien insisted, "There is a place in Colorado where I must spend time. I want to learn about Mortals and I want to learn about them _there."_

"Er, South Park?" Satan asked, confused. "Why?"

"Because the Immortal Kenny McCormick lives there," Damien answered stoutly. "And I wish to know why so many people perish there."

"Well, I mean it's not my first pick but it's better than keeping him down here," Saddam said, jumping into the conversation. "Let him go Satan, he needs this experience."

"Um… Well…" Defeated even before he'd begun to argue, Satan's broad shoulders slumped and he said, "If that's what you wish, then I guess I could send you there for a while."

"See," Saddam cooed, going over to his lover and stroking Lucifer's beefy arm soothingly. "Baby steps, Love. Our little Devil is growing up."

"I suppose he is," Satan commented sadly.

Damien, for his part, hoped that South Park was as nice as Hell this time of year.


End file.
